


I've Got Friends Locked In Boxes (That's No Way To Live)

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grimmauld Place, Humor, M/M, Padfoot - Freeform, Smoking, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus takes it upon himself to bust Sirius out of 12 Grimmauld Place, just for a day, because it has quickly become clear that Sirius Black will never be content sitting still for more than seven seconds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got Friends Locked In Boxes (That's No Way To Live)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cheyenne, who prompted: "Remus breaks Sirius out of 12 Grimmauld Place for a day of fun because Remus knows he’s going stir crazy and Sirius’ rebelliousness has rubbed off on him." I did this instead of any number of school assignments and also NaNoWriMo, but whatever.
> 
> It's two in the morning, and I'm not editing this right now, screw that, I'll just post it and fix it later if there's any glaring issues.
> 
> Title taken from "One Foot" by fun..

Sirius sometimes felt as though he had simply traded one prison for another when he had to move back into 12 Grimmauld Place. The old house had already carried some repressed prison-like qualities from his childhood, before he had run away. Being back in it, with the added tension of having to remain in it, lest he be caught and sent back to Azkaban, was a rough time. He enjoyed the company of the others who came through; he was delighted when the Weasleys arrived, and overjoyed at Harry’s presence. He liked when the Order came through; seeing Dora was always nice, and even the brief visits of Kingsley, or McGonagall (who he still could not bring himself to call by her first name), or even Dumbledore (who nobody seemed to be able to call by his first name) were not unwelcome. Apart from Harry’s visits, Remus’ visits were Sirius’ favorites, though; that much became obvious very quickly.

That was the problem, though. Remus was hardly ever around. Sirius was _always_ around.

Remus, being one of the most willing, the most unattached, and the most loyal, was always being sent on this mission or that for the Order. He did whatever he was asked to do, went where he was told to go. He stayed with Sirius when he was at the house, though. He always made a point of stopping there between missions. Sirius could not help but be envious; Remus could leave the house. Remus was _useful_. Sirius stayed inside, cleaning the house, coming up with plans for the future that would never see the light of day, and so only got more and more wild.

Remus had never been a blind man. When it came to his friends, he was exceptionally perceptive. He had always been able to tell what was wrong with James by his expression alone, what Peter was thinking about by the way he held himself. He could tell Sirius was getting restless, maybe a little stir-crazy. Remus himself, despite his childhood reputation as a Marauder, had, at some point, gained the position of responsible adult, which both he and Sirius found somewhat laughable. Sirius seemed to believe it, though. He had been gone for some time; he had expected a lot of change, and never expected to be friends with Remus again. He returned to this quieter man, this man who had lost everything, and seemed to believe the new outer characteristics to be indicative of the inside. Remus understood, but he also wanted to correct him, just a little bit. That youthful streak had never died.

Busy though he was, Remus still was what Remus was, and, though people might not always think of it, they never forgot it. So, when Remus asked for a few days off, he was usually granted the request, regardless of the date’s proximity to the full moon. He asked for a few days off in early January of 1996. The full moon was on the fifth, so he got from New Year’s Eve to the ninth. He tended to get a little antsy before the full moon, anyways, he thought; he may as well use the energy for something besides Order errands.

Sirius had entered something of a funk when he had begun his confinement in 12 Grimmauld Place, but that seemed to have vanished during the Christmas festivities. The old Sirius made a reappearance, smiling more, singing loudly, celebrating with the Weasleys, with Harry, with the Order. Remus found himself happier by extension, and, by the time his time off at the beginning of January rolled around, he was practically bursting out of his skin.

“Sirius, wake up,” Remus whispered in the darkness of Wednesday, January 3rd. There was snow falling very lightly outside their window, he could see, and that only made it that much darker. Sirius waved him away, but Remus could tell he was already well on his way to wide awake, since he was no longer the heavy sleeper he had once been. “Sirius.”

“What _is it_?” Sirius demanded, shoving his face into his pillow. Remus debated climbing on top of him, but decided against it, citing his disconcertingly stiff joints. He settled for yanking his blankets off. “ _Whoah!_ Eighth deadly sin, Moony, _Jesus_.”

“Just ‘Moony’ is probably fine,” Remus deadpanned. Sirius sat up in bed, rubbing at the back of his neck and yawning, his hair wild. He stared up at Remus expectantly.

“Well?” Sirius asked, when Remus did not speak. “Why are you waking me up at the ungodly hour of-” He looked around for a clock. “What time is it?”

Remus checked his watch. “It’s nearly six.”

“Nearly _six_ , Moony? That’s disgusting.” Sirius grabbed for the blankets again, but Remus tossed them in the corner. “What are you _doing_ , you _monster_?”

They both paused for a second before Remus grinned. “This particular monster is busting you out for the day.”

Sirius stared at Remus for a second before reaching for his wand without breaking eye contact. He held it up.

“What is the other name of my Animagus form?”

“Snuffles.”

“What was James’ favorite dessert?”

“Treacle tarts.”

“Which kind?”

“ _Mine_ , obviously, Sirius.”

“Where did we first kiss?”

“McGonagall’s Transfiguration classroom. And she came back in, forgot a quill or something, and there’s a _reason_ James was Head Boy instead of me.”

Sirius hesitated, then lowered his wand. “Have you been possessed?”

“No.”

“Enchanted?”

“No.”

“ _Cloned?_ ”

“No.”

“Then what is going _on_?” Sirius asked desperately. He fell back against the mattress, abandoning his wand at his side. Remus opened Sirius’ wardrobe and started picking out suitably Muggle clothes for him to wear, tossing them at him on the bed.

“Like I said, busting you out for the day,” Remus repeated, throwing Sirius his old leather jacket, barely worn anymore. “I’ve noticed you’ve been moping around more than usual lately-”

“-I have _not_ -”

“And,” Remus continued, as though Sirius had not even interjected, “I’ve decided that I need to do something about it sooner rather than later. And so, for the third time, I’m busting you out. We’re taking a day off.”

Sirius watched him for a little while longer before he started dressing in the clothes Remus tossed his way. He ended up in jeans, a sweater that he was pretty sure actually belonged to Remus at some point, and his leather jacket, which felt comfortable and familiar on him. He adjusted the sleeves and the collar and held his arms out wide.

“How do I look?” he asked. Remus approached him and fixed the neck of the sweater under the jacket. Sirius caught his hands, and Remus looked down at their tangled fingers before reaching up to smooth Sirius’ hair back, trying to work out the tangles.

“Appropriately Muggle,” Remus answered at last. He dropped his head down to kiss Sirius; Sirius stretched up to meet him, but Remus pulled away before he could properly involved. Sirius fell back onto the balls of his feet.

“Did you get this cleared?” Sirius asked. Remus continued working out the knots in Sirius’ hair, this time with more determination, less distraction. Sirius tried to bite at the sleeve of Remus’ sweater whenever it got close enough.

“Nope,” Remus answered. “I have the time off, of course.”

“Of course,” Sirius parroted. Remus tugged on his hair a little. “I technically shouldn’t leave the house.”

“I can’t be held accountable for my actions,” Remus murmured, smiling just a bit. “The full moon is in two days. I’m irresponsible and wild.”

“I feel like you’re making up excuses,” Sirius laughed. Remus raised an eyebrow as he tucked Sirius’ hair behind his ear.

“Now, what makes you say that?” Remus stepped back, and Sirius stepped with him, tangling the fingers of his left hand with Remus’ right. He let his own right hand drift up to press against Remus’ jawline. He could feel the raised scars under his fingertips, some old and familiar, some new and rough. He pushed his fingers through the hair at the back of Remus’ head and pulled him down to his level, forcing him to hunch a little in order to kiss him back properly. Remus let his left hand trace down to the small of Sirius’ back, familiar leather smooth against his palm as he jerked Sirius closer to him. When Sirius finally pulled back for air, Remus pressed their foreheads together.

“Alright,” Sirius said, breathless. “Let’s get to getting. How are we breaking out?”

“The front door,” Remus answered. “I don’t think anybody’s awake right now. And I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“You’re just full of those today, aren’t you?” Sirius laughed. He tugged his old Gryffindor winter hat and stuffed Remus’ longer-by-the-day, tawny-sandy-grey hair into his. Sirius still made a dramatic effort to be quiet as they left the house. Remus rolled his eyes and moved with effortless silence. He brought Sirius out to the front sidewalk, where Sirius was presented with his motorbike. Sirius was silent for a long moment. Then,

“Where did you find it?” Sirius asked. Remus shrugged, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his threadbare jacket. Snow was catching in the ends of his hair that peeked out from under his hat.

“You gave it to Rubeus,” Remus reminded him. “I went to him and asked what he did with it. Turned out he still had it, let me borrow it. I have to bring it back-” Sirius made a noise of indignation that Remus ignored. “-since it obviously can’t be wherever _you_ are, lest someone connect the dots. But I thought it would be fine, just for today.”

“It looks the same as it used to,” Sirius commented, running his fingertips over the seat. “How, Remus?”

“I remembered what it looked like, straightened it up a bit for you,” Remus replied. “I thought you might appreciate it.”

Sirius turned unexpectedly, grasping Remus by the collar of his jacket and tugging him down for a kiss. Remus laughed against his mouth.

“I love- it,” Sirius said, tripping over his words. Remus pulled on a lock of Sirius’ hair. He hesitated. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Remus motioned to the motorbike. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Sirius swung his leg over the motorbike with an easy familiarity, the movement returning to him after all these years. Remus settled behind him on the motorbike and Sirius took off at once.

“No flying!” Remus shouted over the roar of the engine and the wild growl of the tires on the pavement. “Keep it subtle!”

“Subtlety is my middle name!” Sirius called back. He tugged the cap off his face and laughed as the wind blew his hair back. Remus was tall enough that he avoided getting a faceful of hair, getting it in the neck and chest instead. “Where to?”

“Breakfast,” Remus answered, and Sirius took off towards a Muggle diner he remembered being nearby. They pulled in, snow dampening their hair. Remus shoved Sirius’ hat back on his head, only to have him take it off before they even got to the door after parking the motorbike. “What’s this place, then?”

“There’s a sign, Moony,” Sirius pointed out. “ _The Diner_ , see, says right there. Specializes in good old-fashioned diner food.”

“Is there such a thing?” Remus asked. Sirius grabbed his hand and led him inside, ignoring his blasphemous commentary as he directed them to a booth and sat them down. “It’s french toast or it’s nothing, Sirius. I hope you know that.”

“It’s pecan waffles and a root beer float or it’s nothing, Moony, you walking disaster.”

The rest of the day was rather enchanting; it snowed the entire time, but neither of them let that deter them from participating in any of the activities that they wanted to participate in. From the diner (which they made a spectacular mess of; whether it was pecan waffles or french toast, it had syrup, and that was just catastrophic), they spent a great deal of time in the park. Sirius spent a significant amount of that time as Padfoot, chasing snowflakes, running in circles, enjoying the fresh air and the freedom while Remus watched from a bench and built tiny snowmen at his feet. When Sirius was finally done with his frolicking and exuberant sprints back and forth, he shifted back behind a bush, grabbed Remus by the wrist, and took him for a walk.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do something else?” Remus asked. Sirius squeezed his hand and looked over the frozen pond on their left.

“I like being outside,” was all Sirius said in reply. Remus allowed Sirius to pull him along, leading him down the path. The snow could only be endured for so long - especially on Sirius’ part, since Remus ran a little warm naturally - and so the park was abandoned by the mid-afternoon. They instead sought out a little sandwich shop, where they got nice sandwiches, warm soup, and hot tea. Sirius looked thrilled to be alive, every second. His grey eyes were smiling whenever Remus looked up at him, even if his expression was neutral at the time.

They then went to a Muggle movie theatre, watched the end of the newest James Bond film - _GoldenEye_ , Remus informed him, pointing out the poster - before abandoning it nearly right before the credits to see a new cartoon from Disney, something called _Toy Story_ that Sirius adored, and did not even try to hide his admiration of. Remus enjoyed watching Sirius more.

They found an early dinner in a fast-food joint, Sirius delightedly choosing the place because, “Remus, some things just can’t make up for not having something like _this_ ,” and he held up a chicken nugget to make his point, “for over _twelve years_.” As it turned out, Sirius also had a box of cigarettes in his pocket, and they drove the motorbike up to the highest point in the borough once the sun was starting to set. Sirius offered Remus one, and he took it. Sirius made not comment as he lit both cigarettes and they sat in the snow, ignoring the cold seeping through their jeans, unwilling to use magic and ruin the natural ease of the whole thing. The sun set, filtered and foggy through the snow-clouds, and the smoke from their cigarettes twisted in grey tendrils into the new night sky.

“Couple more nights before the full,” Remus commented, his voice rough from the smoke. He examined the red ashes at the end of his cigarette. “I can feel it.”

Sirius looked down at his arm, at the tattoo that displayed to him an almost-full moon. “I kept track. Even when I was… gone. I wanted to know. It gave me… I don’t know what it gave me. But it did.”

“Thank you,” Remus said. He exhaled. Sirius grabbed his free hand and shoved their tangled hands into the pocket of his coat. He dropped his head onto Remus’ shoulder and looked out over the town.

“Can we stay out here forever?” Sirius asked, his question sounding childlike in nature, even though his tone was worn and seasoned. Remus let his head rest against Sirius’.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Remus murmured in reply. He ran his thumb over the back of Sirius’ hand in small circles. “Would that we could, Padfoot.”

“It’ll all be over soon,” Sirius said, unaware of who he was trying to convince. “I’ll be a free man. You can do something else besides all this bloody Order business, maybe teach again. We’ll be fine, Remus.”

Remus took one last drag from his cigarette before extinguishing it in the snow. He did not answer Sirius, because he had never been able to lie to him.

They were back at 12 Grimmauld Place before midnight. Everyone was already in bed, save Fred and George, who swore not to say anything to Molly if Sirius and Remus also swore not to say anything to Molly, and the four of them shook on it before disappearing to their respective bedrooms. Sirius showered and climbed into bed, looking cleaner and healthier than he had since they were young, when James was still alive, before all this happened, the wars and the years and everything. Remus climbed into bed next to him. Despite his shower, he still smelled crisp, like snow, and sweet, like syrup, and smoky, like cigarettes, and Remus kept him awake for at least an hour more, desire raging in his veins along with the light of the moon.

Sirius was asleep by one in the morning. Remus lay awake still, tucked around Sirius’ body protectively as he slept. Maybe, he thought, such a reputation - the one he had supposedly gained, for being a responsible adult, hogwash though he was sure it all was - was worth it, if it meant he could keep Sirius safe.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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